


Pit Stop

by blackjacq (Annabeelee)



Series: Operant Pupation [2]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Bottom Dib (Invader Zim), Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Blood, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Older Dib (Invader Zim), Oral Sex, Possessive Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26568187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annabeelee/pseuds/blackjacq
Summary: Tak has a specific ‘no touching’ rule on her ship and with Zim having just gone through what amounts to Irken puberty, things have been a little tense between him and Dib.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: Operant Pupation [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932118
Comments: 12
Kudos: 148





	Pit Stop

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 6k word excuse to write smut. Do you need to read the first fic to read this one? Eeeehhhh, I don't know. Zim’s gone through some puberty thing and has some new bits. He's got spider legs and spikes on his wrists. And he's taller. Just roll with it.

_Post-Earth Log #3_

_We boarded_ **_Tak_ ** _’s ship for the exiled Irken colony exactly 15 simulated days ago._

_I HATE IT._

_The_ **_tiny. Insignificant. VESSEL._ ** _Has no more room than the Dib’s minuscule_ ** _sad_ ** _base back on Earth._

_Pathetic. HUMILIATING._

_This is_ **_beneath me! ZIM!_ **

_On top of this diminutive ship, there are other_ grievances _which I can no longer ignore out of the generosity of my_ amazing _self._

  1. _The doors keep closing on my LEGS. I KNOW THIS IS **TAK** ’S DOING, THAT FIEND. _
  2. GIR keeps reworking his shutdown protocols so he ignore can them. He is too smart for his own good. 
  3. The traitorous door-monster **Tak** keeps telling me ME to keep quiet. DOES SHE KNOW WHO I AM?



_And, most egregiously, I-...._

_Am shutting the door. Yes._

_Now that Zim is truly alone, I-_

_Mis- No! Zim misses nothing! The human is around every corner in this TINY ship. It is the wiggly that wants the Dib…more.... I am_ fine _without the sex...thing._

 _But this ORGAN. IT_ **_NEEDS_ ** _. And the Dib!_

_Makes this._

_DIFFICULT._

_He’s around and…._ **_near._ ** _Doing. THINGS._

_Unacceptable._

**_Tak_ ** _has imposed a strict no touchy rule under threat of locking whoever she thinks is responsible in the storage unit until we reach the colony. Oh, she vexes me so…_

 _While the obvious,_ **_idiot_ ** _solution to my wiggly problem is to corner the Dib on the refueling mission in just a few hours, I have a better plan. One more..._ **_permanent._ ** _Most stations such as these have shops for tools of an intimate nature for the lesser species of alien to use on their long lonely service trips, and while Zim of a_ superior race _to these DISGUSTING **inferior** species, a tool of some sort to be able to access the wiggly on my own may be just what I need if _ **_Tak_ ** _is to be so..._

_STUPID._

_It is a genius plan. Unsurprising as it in MY plan. Then after, I can corner the Dib thing. Perfect! Infallible! **Delicio-** _

* * *

“Hey.” 

The noise Zim makes halfway through his word is excessively satisfying, more so when he nearly loses his footing, having to catch himself with his back arachnid leg. Dib leans against the doorframe of the storage closet the Irken sequesters himself into every few day cycles to quietly yell about whatever into his wrist PAK. 

“Dib!” He shrieks, whipping around and hiding his arm behind his back like the other four people/robots on the ship don’t know he’s still making these logs. “Can you not see Zim is _busy?_ ”

Dib shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. He has an idea, no clue how to execute it though. They’ve been on Tak’s tiny ass ship for a couple of weeks now, and with her ever-vigilant sensory upgrades and the ‘no mating on my ship’ rule, it’s been a rough trip. 

And with Zim having just gotten a dick not even four months ago, its been even harder.

“I just want to talk.” He says it in a lower register, giving Zim an obvious once-over. Dib’s going for coy, but honestly he’s not sure he’s even in that ballpark. He’s never really had to seduce anyone, or had much practice in innuendo, especially with Zim, but no time like the present. “About, you know…”

Zim balks, face scrunching as he waves Dib off. 

“There is no need for your _insipid_ mouth words!” Dib is taken aback by the rebuff, but recovers quickly. He ignores the suspicion in Zim’s gaze and moves closer into his space, placing a bold hand just under where his heart would be if he had one.

“What about something else-” Zim grabs his fingers in a vice, pulling them away and ceasing their slow creep lower with every one of his words. He’s irritated, antennae strapped back across his bald head, pink teeth bared as he shoves Dib away without the usual fire of their physical altercations.

“Do not push me, Dib. Or... **Tak** for that matter.” Dib groans as Zim starts to pass him, rolling his eyes. 

Yeah, yeah. 

Tak’s ship, Tak’s rules. Irken antennae are sensitive to everything from vibrations to smells, and while their hearing isn’t so good, there would be no hiding any sort of sex from her in what is essentially a small-to-midsize camper flying in the vast emptiness of space. That’s not what he wanted to talk about though. 

He’s frustrated. They both are. Yes, it’s only been about two weeks since they last did anything, but Dib’s never been in a long term relationship of any kind and its kinda of fucking hard not to think about touching Zim when their in arm’s reach literally every second of the simulated day. On top of that, while Dib has the option to jerk off: Zim doesn’t. He can’t get his dick out without a helping hand, which has to be even more frustrating for the twitchy impulsive bastard, which Dib can’t stop thinking about every time he catches Zim staring at him knowing he’s just aching for an excuse to shove his weird fucking cock into Dib, which-

It's a vicious cycle they’ve found themselves in. There have been a few instances that Zim has nearly hit the breaking point, (Dib is surprised it hasn’t been more than that considering Zim has no patience when it comes to something he wants), wherein he grabbed Dib only to rut against him with a stifled whine, claws threatening to tear into him as the alien used whatever part of Dib was convenient enough to relieve a little of the ache. It always ended as quickly as it started; Zim shoving off him with a humiliated snarl, calling Dib a ‘a filthy dirt-seductress’, whatever that means, as he stalked away to go cower in some lonely corner until he got himself back under control. 

While it was funny the first time, the next two just left Dib wound up and ready to demand Tak just eject him out of the airlock. He can deal with Zim being a petulant brat, or a cruel violent asshole, but he can’t deal with him being all of that **and** horny. 

There is hope, though. They’re docking in a few hours, at some dive stop far enough outside the Armada’s influence for them to risk it. The ship needs fuel and they need money, so Tak is leaving him and Zim to their own devices to secure both of those things, with a few caveats of course. GIR is to stay on the ship, Zim needs to wear some extra disguise shit since he’s still recognizable as Irken and potentially as ‘Zim, the Irken worth all the money’, and they’re to not interfere with Tak’s side of things. 

Fair enough. Dib’s not going to argue with an excuse to let off some steam. If he could just talk to Zim about it.

He grabs the Irken’s arm before he can get too far, planning to suck up his hesitation and drop the innuendo. Given the murder in Zim's eyes, he's surprised he doesn’t get stabbed by an errant wrist hook for his trouble.

“Wait-” Zim glares, but stays put this time, and it is a herculean effort not to just pull him closer right then and there. They’re in the back corner of the ship, in a supply room/work bench, and Tak is at the helm. It would be easy, extremely unequivocally easy, to crowd Zim around him, shut the door, and let the little fucker do whatever his newly acquired dick tells him to do. 

“Listen,” Dib clears his throat, blinking back the fog that just came over him. “We’re docking soon an-” 

“Yes, yes,” Zim starts, waving the words away as if meaningless, “Zim is aware of Tak’s plan.” 

“Yeah, exactly, so I was thinking, since we’ll be alone and stuff, maybe we could…” He trails off, the embarrassment of actually suggesting doing anything intimate with Zim out loud drying his mouth. Zim cocks his head as Dib squirms with himself, praying he just gets it without having to further elaborate. 

Zim’s eyes widen as it clicks, and he opens his mouth, shuts it again, grits his teeth, and shakes his head.

“No.” He slips out of Dib’s flabbergasted grip. If there was level 2 in terms of being offended, Dib would’ve ascended it by at least 17 tiers. 

“What?” He practically shouts, mouth open in disbelief. “You’ve been humping my leg for days now and you’re just-”

"I have-" Zim struggles with whatever excuse he's about to spew."...plans! Such plans...yes. And no precious time for the Dibs needy...needs." 19 tiers of offended now.

" **My** needs?" He is shouting now. "What the fuck are you talking about? Since when do you have any-"

" **Do** not worry your empty inflated-" There's a prod to the middle of his forehead, a move Zim's been using more and more now that he's grown a foot. " _head_ over what I am planning, worm." He moves through the corridor, letting the door shut with a hiss behind him to the next portion of the ship, leaving Dib standing alone and quite honestly pissed.

Dib runs a hand through his hair and groans in frustration again. He could follow Zim, continue the argument, have Tak shout at them both, but it wouldn’t get an answer from Zim. He could yell all he liked, but it would just make things worse. Years of knowing the alien has taught him that much and as annoyed and tense as he is, he’s not going to push it.

If Zim wants to keep some fucking secret and not have Dib take care of his problem, that’s his business. Dib will figure out the plan eventually, cause Zim can’t keep any of his ‘brilliant ideas’ a secret for too long. He’ll just end up telling Dib during or after the conclusion of said plan and then they can talk or fuck or whatever. 

It’s fine. It's not his dick that need a third party to access. Dib turns and lets his forehead hit the metal wall of the ship, once, twice, three times.

What a stupid problem to have. 

* * *

The bar is packed, seemingly never not so as little cleaner robots zip between legs, tentacles, prosthetics, what have you to keep some level of hygiene up. There’s four bartenders, each up their own asses in orders and of a similarly multi-armed species with a stunning proficiency in dealing with doling out alcohol, and even still it takes Dib some time to get anything wet to drink. It's not the first time he’s had alcohol from the stars, but it is the first time he’s done so begrudgingly.

Anything that could be used as a seat has been taken up, and with little other choice, Dib finds himself leaning against an empty space of wall, barely having sipped his drink as he watches various aliens come and go and dance and gamble and disappear together to the hotel just next door. He almost, _almost_ , wishes he had some kind of notebook or recording device. 

He’s never been to this side of the galaxy. Adventures with and against Zim always landed them solidly in either the Milky Way or in some sanctioned portion of Armada space. He’s seen most alien races, thought he’d seen everything, but just in this room alone are enough new species to pique that age old cryptid searching interest.

At least that’s the excuse he gives himself. There’s no denying that he’s _looking_ , eyes scanning over any form that piques something more than just scientific curiosity. Does he feel guilty? A little, but Zim snubbed him to go do fuck all somewhere else and he’s horny as hell. It’s not as if he’s actually planning on hooking up anyone at what amounts to a space truck stop but he can have a look while he waits for Zim to get his shit together.

Tak gave them one final warning to not mess this up for her before she stalked off with MiMi at her side, leaving Dib and Zim alone. Dib tried to catch Zim’s eye one more time and Zim took off without even a first glance. So here he is, alone in a bar, too deflated to go and see the rest of the space station, but also too proud to stay on the ship with GIR.

It’s fine. He’s not in any danger, and even if he was, he has a gun at his hip. It's not his face on the bounty missives. No one notices the weird boring-looking alien who’s sulking by himself. No one even bats an eye or any kind of ocular organ his way. 

Or so Dib thought, feeling too comfortable in his relative mundanity against his lonely wall. 

“Not a great place to be alone.”

It's shocking Dib didn't notice him becasue he's big, taller than Dib by at least a head. A handsome vaguely reptilian square face smiles at him with sharp little teeth and four gentle yellow eyes. Two legs, four arms, purple skin, and jacked as hell, he’s the most ‘frat bro’ looking alien Dib has ever seen. The alien settles in next to Dib, mirroring his posture with a drink in one hand and all other unoccupied limbs crossed over his broad chest. 

“Just wasting some time.” Dib replies, failing to not stare openly. The alien isn’t the most unique he’s ever seen, but he does have a certain...aesthetic to him. 

“All alone?” He asks, appearing genuinely curious.

“No, waiting for some…” He struggles with the right adjective. “Crewmates.” The alien grunts. “You?” 

“Ship’s all kinds of fucked. All the repair drones are booked up for a week.” The alien chuckles at his own misfortune, shaking his head. He fixes Dib with a jovial gleam in his eyes and a half smile that immediately puts him at ease. “Guess we’re both stuck waiting.” 

The alien introduces himself as Yix, a specialty goods transporter. He’s affable, charming, and Dib falls into the conversation with an ease he rarely has speaking to someone else he barely knows. When it comes time for Dib to explain why he’s here, he hesitates for a moment. 

They aren’t in Irken space, but it’s easy to see an anxiety around the space stop. The Irken Empire and its Armada are ever closing, ever reaching, the race a parasitic infestation poised to worm itself into anything remotely useful and devour whatever it can get. Tak got them into the stop with forged documents and elaborate disguises for her (and less elaborate for Zim considering his recent physical alterations). 

“Taking a friend to a specialist.” He settles on after too long of a deliberation. Yix blinks four eyes at him, clearly surprised. 

“Oh, are they sick?” 

“Something like that.” 

* * *

It’s a dumb idea. Dib doesn’t know Yix, doesn’t know if he can trust him, but when Dib let’s slip he’s been working as a mechanic on his ship after about an hour of talking, Yix asks the question, hope written all over his charming features. Dib slams the rest of his drink, the ‘why not’ already on his tongue as he swallows it down painfully. He’s bored, and Zim still hasn’t come searching for him; he might as well make himself useful to someone, might as well throw caution to the wind for a bit. Yix is more than happy for the possible help, eagerly leading them to the docking bay. 

“I ain’t got any clue what it could be.” Yix had laughed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly as they walk into the oppressive grey expanse of the shipyard, “You’d think working alone would’ve taught me a thing or two about ship repair, but I’ve got fuck all to show for it.”

His ship is hilariously directly across from Tak’s, and it’s a point of relief for Dib to know that either of the Irkens could be back at any time. Hell, GIR is still inside, having been specifically ordered by everyone to ‘sit this one out’. Even though he’s probably in the middle of some inane task he assigned himself, the robot is but a shout away and would jump at the excuse to get onto the docking bay. If something goes wrong, Dib doesn’t have far to run. 

The attempt at repair work doesn’t last very long. The ship isn’t of a make Dib is familiar with, having done work mostly on Vortian or Irken (better known as Also Vortian, but try getting a single Irken to admit that) models. Even with some tweaking and a generous application of general knowledge about xeno-engineering, Dib has to bow out. Whatever Yix did to his engine is beyond him. 

“Sorry I couldn’t be more help.” Dib steps back out into the docking bay, down the ship's ramp, cleaning some gunk off his hands. The sound of his boots echo loudly in the oversized parking lot as he walks onto the concrete. He’s relatively disappointed, less in helping this random guy, and more in himself. 

“Hey, thanks for trying.” Yix says, the gratitude evident yet something in his posture is hesitant as he looks around the docking bay. Had he not just been alone with the guy in his engine room without incident, it might’ve made Dib nervous. 

“No problem.” Dib stops a few feet from the ramp, letting his back rest against the cool metal of the hull, unsure of what to do next. He’s not ready to give up and go sulk in Tak’s ship, but honestly the thought of going back to the bar is infinitely worse. He could just choke back the indignation and just go find Zim...and strangle him...

He doesn’t even know what he’s so fucking upset over. What did he expect getting into a...a.. Whatever he and Zim are with an alien who’s antagonistic at best and downright murderous at worst? Their wants are not a 1:1 correlation and maybe Dib is expecting something human. He can’t be too disappointed when Zim ignores him for seemingly no reason. 

He just does that sometimes. Why should adding the possibility of sex change that?

Yix moving snaps Dib out of his sulk, the hulking figure having made up his mind over whatever he was deliberating and steps fully off the ramp. 

“Looks like you’ll have to pay up for repairs after all.” Dib jokes, stuffing the rag into his pocket and letting his arms fall to his side. Yix continues his slow purposeful saunter toward him, something in its swaying step that puts Dib on edge. Not in a ‘fight or flight’ sense, but something...else. 

“Yeah…” Yix answers back with a forced huff of a laugh, scratching the back of his neck and not meeting Dib’s eye until he is just in front of him. That edge becomes painfully clear as one massive hand plants itself on the wall by Dib’s head. Yix looms over him, still giving Dib enough space to bolt if he wanted, but there’s want in his eyes and a sly quirk to his mouth when he finally looks at Dib. “Maybe there’s something else you could fix.”

If he hadn’t already been horny as hell, Dib could see himself laughing out loud at the cheesiness of the pick up line but… He would be lying if the positioning didn’t get his heart rate up even as he subtly fingers the ray gun in its concealed holster on his hip. Yix hasn’t gotten close enough to warrant anything that violent, and he isn’t exactly being forceful. 

Dib crosses his arms over his chest, titling his chin up to better level himself with Yix. It doesn’t escape either of their attention that he hasn’t tried to put any space between them and Yix seems pleased by it. A meaty hand reaches up to trace the junction of his jaw and his chin, and Dib shivers despite himself. 

“I’m not really here for that kind of thing.” Dib says, voice lower than he expected, and with less conviction. He makes no move to actually stop the guy touching him and doesn’t even protest when he moves in a little closer. 

“You got someone?” Another hand comes up, this time to Dib’s hip, and he lets it stay there. He should shove him away, really. It’s a better idea than this; they’re so close to Tak’s ship that either her or Zim or hell, even GIR could happen upon them at any second and Dib is technically in a...something with Zim.

It’s exhilarating though, isn’t it? To be wanted by someone strange, have their full undivided attention. Especially when a massive thigh insinuates itself between his legs and Yix catches his eye with a look that is both heated and smug. He’s big, really fucking big. He could pick Dib up right then and there, hold him against his ship, do whatever he wanted…

Dib sighs though, breaks the eye contact, licks his too dry lips. It's just... He’s not an asshole, not completely. He’s not fucking around with some other person, not this fresh into whatever he and Zim are and especially not until they have a long conversation on what monogamy might mean to an alien who just found his species is capable of sex and relationships. 

“I do, actually…” Dib starts, curling a hand around Yix’s broad shoulder to give it a shove.

It’s the right thing to do, yeah?

Before he can apply any force, something catches his eye and he freezes as he looks beyond the mountain of alien in front of him. There, stood stock still and watching them with an unknowable expression, is Zim. He’s balanced on his dorsal legs, despite Tak’s very clear instructions to not use those, some sort of package in his hand, antennae in all sorts of positions that Dib can’t get a read on. Dib could swear he was going to catch on fire as they catch each other, magenta eyes wide and mouth open agape.

What does this look like to Zim? What’s going on in that egotistical head of his when he happens up Dib irrefutably in the arms of someone else? An idea forms in his head, muscles tensing with anticipation as Dib decides on his next course of action. What would Zim do, will he do when Dib doesn’t put a stop to this? 

“I don’t see them here.” Yix purrs, directly into Dib’s ear and, with full knowledge Zim is watching his every move, that hand on Yix’s shoulder slides to the back of his neck, pulling him in. 

“You’re right.” Dib mutters back, all pretense of putting up a fight gone. It’s petty, he gets that, but there’s a thrill to it he’s finding more and more intoxicating, his pulse stuttering plainly in his throat and heat flashing down into his groin. “It’s a real shame.”

“Not for me.” He can feel those sharp little teeth pressed into his neck in a smile before they open and a thick tongue laps hungrily at his skin. Dib arches into him, letting out a breath and closing his eyes.

Even as Yix presses closer, Dib can only imagine what is going to happen after. When will Zim intervene? Will he intervene? Will he just stand and watch as another person takes what is his, or will he march over and pull Dib away, show him who he really belongs to? It doesn’t matter the reaction; he’ll take it all.

Dib lets out a low noise, eyes fluttering, playing it up as thick fingers massage him through his clothes. He peeks over Yix’s shoulder again, eager to see Zim’s reaction, but the air turn frigid in his lungs when the Irken is nowhere to be seen. 

“Shit.” It comes out of his mouth before he can keep it down, the playful anticipation turning into stabbing dread. Yix stops, the change in his tone making his shoulders tense. He pulls back, searching Dib’s face with clear confusion. 

“What’s wro-” A hairy arachnid leg alights upon Yix’s shoulder, and before he can even twitch his chin to see what’s touching him, there’s a wrist spike being driven directly into his temple. Dib’s yelp is lost to the sickening squelch and crack as the spike is twisted among whatever matter is held within the alien’s skull.

Yix slumps to the floor, bluish fluid leaking from the hole in his cranium, body still twitching as Zim steps over it unceremoniously. He’s uncharacteristically silent, eyes gleaming as he holds Dib in his predatory stare, towering over him on his dorsal legs. He didn’t expect this, should’ve expected this. He got too comfortable with Zim’s harmless chagrin, forgot he’s extremely capable of horrible violence when pushed far enough.

Even to Dib.

Fear has a taste as it stutters his heart, his breath, cold and stale on the back of his tongue as Dib presses himself further into the hull of the ship. The clear mantra of ‘ _I fucked up’_ repeats over and over in his thoughts, glancing anxiously between the growing blue pool under the rapidly dying stranger and Zim’s dominating approach. He may have pushed this too far, stepped too over a line he didn’t know he shouldn’t cross. 

He may just fucking die right here, but that hasn’t stopped his dick throbbing next to his thigh as the talons of one of Zim’s legs embed themselves into his shirt. 

“I wasn’t goi-” 

“ _Liar.”_ Zim hisses, yanking him away from Yix’s ship, away from Yix, towards Tak’s ship, and Dib goes, half-stumbling, half-being forcibly dragged. He tries to stop them, hold his ground, sneakers stuttering on concrete, mouth still sputtering excuses until Zim just lifts him bodily and tosses him effortlessly. 

Dib skids to a halt just by the entrance to Tak’s ship, a low sharp ache in his elbow that had probably been skinned by the docking bay floor and he scrambles to turn over onto his back. He starts pushing himself backwards, the space between him and Zim offering a momentary safety, but his attempts are futile as another long leg grabs him. Talons scrape against the skin of his sternum as he is thrown again into a more secluded corner between the ship and it’s neighbor. 

“Zim, listen-” He starts to plead, pushing himself up on his elbows, even as Zim shoves his back into a wall, standing over him, mouth twitching in a snarl. Zim is clicking, chirping, strange throaty vocalizations that seem somewhere between unintelligible Irken and animalistic gibberish.

Dib could still shove him away. His bent bad leg is right next to him, and one elbow to it would send Zim toppling to the floor. He could get away, let Zim calm down to a point where he isn’t going to rip him to shreds, and then apologize for his dipshit idea. It would be easy. 

It would be smart. 

But-

There’s just some part of his brain that doesn’t work anymore, at least in regards to Zim. The smell of some other sentient being’s blood is thick in the air as claws soaked in the fluid entangle in his hair, yanking it to its roots. Zim steps over him, feet on either side of his splayed legs, and he lowers himself so his abdomen is level with Dib’s face. And even as the wrist spike still wet from where it was just lodged in someone’s skull pokes into his shoulder, and even as Zim forces him to stare into his rage filled expression, Dib is all but gagging for whatever is coming next. 

“Mouth.” The demand is clear as Zim pulls down his leggings, just enough to expose the genital slit Dib hasn’t been able to get out of his head for weeks now. He barely has a second to think, let alone react before the grip in his hair is mashing face to the already leaking genital covering. There’s little regard for his comfort, for his opinion on the matter as hips begin their grind against his face. 

The notion of shoving Zim away is evaporated as Dib opens his mouth, hand coming up to steady the erratic thrusting so he can worm his tongue between the lips. Zim’s cock is swollen already, close to it’s breaching point. Dib isn’t the only one enjoying what’s happening. It's wet against his mouth, sweet on his tongue, and he laps at the space between with more enthusiasm that he should. 

Upon first glance of Dib tongue against the smooth surface of his dick, Zim redoubles his efforts with a pained trill, both sets of claws now firmly in Dib’s hair as two of his back legs slam into the wall, steadying him. It hard to not be encouraged by the raw display, by the pinpricks scratching into his scalp, by the intermixing of fear and arousal that shocks down his gut into his groin as he sucks eagerly at Zim’s genitals, riding with the desperate push of Zim’s hips against his face. 

He dares to look up at Zim’s face, to see his tongue peeking out between his teeth and when Zim finds his stare, he curls his tongue, challenging. The Irken snarls, sharply tugging Dib’s head away as his cock releases from its confines, clear fluid dribbling to the floor below. 

Dib’s panting, face wet, blood pounding in his ears, mouth watering and eyes fixed on the dick writhing in front of him as Zim settles into the sensation of it being outside his body. Black claws reach down to grip it, smoothing over the pink surface as it curls around Zim’s fingers and Dib whines audibly. He knows it’s taste, the shape of it in his mouth, his hand, and he wants-

Dib leans forward, making to cover Zim’s hand with his own when the grip in his hair tightens again. He’s being pulled up, slammed face first into concrete hard enough that he’s surprised he hasn’t broken his glasses. He doesn’t get much time to complain about the scrape on his cheek as desperate claws fumble with his pants and Dib’s heart rate jacks into the quadruple digits as he realizes what Zim is thinking. 

“Awful, _needy_ Dib-” He growls, the talons on one arachnid leg pressing Dib’s face into the wall when he begins to struggle. He couldn’t even turn his head if he tried, fighting in vain against the weight pinning him as his backside is exposed to greedy claws. 

“Wait-” They haven’t done this yet. Haven’t even talked about it. Dib didn’t know if Zim wanted to fuck him in any respect. Didn’t even know he knew what that was. Fuck, he hasn't even fingered himself in months, the most action he's gotton was cleaning himself before they docked. Dib strains against the foot pressing into his head to see, just getting the barest hint of Zim in his periphery, back arching involuntarily and breath catching as claws trace from the top of his thigh to the swell of his ass. 

“Letting _worthless_ inferior trash touch you.” There’s the first tell-tale touch of something wet and wriggling against his cheek, and Dib reaches back with his free hand, grabbing at Zim’s wrist. 

“Hold on!” He pleads, but another set of talons grips his arm and forces it to the wall, trapping him, leaving him helpless to whatever Zim wants. Dib is panicking; this is happening too fast and anyone could fucking find them if they walked by. He shouldn't want this. It's too much too fast; he-

Fuck, his dick is harder than ever, painfully trapped in his underwear still and begging for a anything to touch it. Just the thought of Zim taking him like this is enough normally to get him halfway there, but the reality of it happening is even more so. He’s out of his mind with wanting to get fucked, pressing back at every pass of the tip of Zim’s cock against his hole as the Irken tries to figure out the logistics of what he’s after. If Zim would just give him a second, let off him for a moment, he could help move this along...

That’s not going to happen,however.

“Dib is mine.” Dib relaxes as best he can, breathing, but there’s nothing to prepare him for the first intrusion, the way the tip of Zim’s cock _moves_ , it’s ceaseless ministrations even as it's being pushed further and further inside of him. It doesn’t take long for Zim to bottom out; the glide easy from the shape of his dick and the amount of fluid he’s producing, but even as he fully seats himself with satisfied huff, Dib is struggling. 

It’s different, a fuck load different than anything he’s had before. The base feels too wide, stretching him almost painfully and the tip won’t stop moving, massaging in him, self-stimulating even Zim has paused to get used to the new sensation. Anyone could walk around the corner and see them, there’s a body still cooling a few yards away, and Dib’s suddenly hit with the realization he went way in over his head. Even still, even _still_ , as he wants to shove Zim off, tell him to never fucking do this again, he’s leaking in his boxers, panting out little mewls of confused pleasure the wriggling tip keeps rippling against his prostrate. 

Zim begins to move, slowly, experimentally, cock too slick from the astounding amount of fluid seeping out of it for any real friction. The leg holding down his arm lets go, instead choosing to steady itself on the wall as Zim starts to pick up his pace, the claws feeding his cock into Dib letting go as he seems confident it won’t slip out and instead letting them bury themselves into Dib’s chest, pulling him closer. Dib is left to just take, huffing out choked moans with every pump in and out of him and he reaches back again, this time to clamp onto Zim’s side and encourage his frantic fucking. 

He feels like he’s spiraling, too hot, every part of him too tight as he gets closer and closer to cumming. Every errant sound beyond them, the settling of the space station, the hiss of a door, the distant sound of a footstep, send burning flashes through him at the possibility of getting seen. It’s too much; it’s not enough. He wants nothing more than to get his hand around his dick, the friction of his boxers and the wall not enough, but he refrains, wanting to draw this out. 

Zim is chirping behind him, antennae fluttering against Dib’s neck and nothing coherent coming from his mouth. The talons in Dib’s hair let up and he worms his free arm in front of his face to keep his cheek from getting scraped to shit as Zim starts thrusting even harder, tongue laving over Dib’s clothed back. Dib yelps in confusion, turning his mouth to his arm to cover his surprised yell.

Zim dick is swelling. Fuck, he forgot it does that. The soft tentacle-esque cock becoming more turgid, its various ridges and bumps hardening and defining themselves further as Zim gets closer to climax. He stops thrusting almost abruptly, claws clamping into Dib’s hips as he begins to rock into him, his needy chittering reaching a new high as he presses his mouth harder into Dib’s shoulder. 

Dib grinds back into his, nearly biting through his arm to keep from shouting as one of the now pronounced ridges drives into his prostate with every minute movement. He’s close, too fucking close, his painfully pulsing dick leaking precome furiously as if he’s being milked for it. He drops the hand that’s gripping Zim’s side, barely getting a hold of his dick as Zim’s teeth sink into his clothed shoulder, as Zim shoves into him even harder, as he all but screams into his own skin-

* * *

“I wasn’t going to actually fuck the guy.” Dib grumbles, pulling his pants back up and doing the fly as best he can. Actually, truthfully, he wasn’t going to until Zim showed up, but he absolutely would have if Zim hadn’t done anything to stop him. Zim doesn’t need to know that right now. “You didn’t need to kill him.” 

Zim glances over at the still corpse on the ground, blinking dumbly. Dib should probably care more about the fact that someone was murdered right in front of him in a jealous rage, but he accepted his lack of empathy towards most people a long time ago. There’s only so many times Zim can kill your friends before you stop caring all that much.

“Eh.” Zim shrugs, stepping away. He grabs the package he dropped in the interim, opening the cardboard to inspect its contents with an expression of relief. Dib's brow furrows, partly from how there's Irken fluid leaking out of him and from the product of Zim's 'plan' now out in the open.

“What the fuck were you even doing, anyways?” Zim whirls on him, pointing menacingly.

“Insolent worm!” He puffs out his chest, grinning to himself. “Zim was getting a more permanent solution to the **Tak’s** insidious rule so I can take care of my own...NEEDS without the Dib’s help." He closes in on Dib, holding out the package for the human to peruse. "Behold!” 

It’s a long, curved, metallic thing with a few strange ribs and a handle with a dial and some various settings in a language Dib doesn’t know. It looks slim and flexible enough to slide into Zim’s slit with little resistance. Despite the ache in his over-sensitive cock, the thought of seeing Zim use it is an inviting one. 

“You bought a sex toy.” Dib says blandly, giving Zim a look. Zim's mouth quirks in disgust.

“If that is what your **idiot** **_human_ ** brain must refer to it as…” Dib fights a smile. If he wasn’t still riding high off getting fucked out, he might’ve teased more. Instead, he holds out a hand to Zim expectantly.

“Help me inside. My legs are shaking.” Zim rolls his eyes, closing his package again.

“Ech,” He puts Dib’s arm over his shoulders, using his dorsal legs to move them with ease. “Disgusting.” He says even as he pulls Dib closer. “Sweaty.” As his antennae flick endlessly in Dib’s hair. “Weak.” He snaps, even as he catches Dib when he stumbles.

“You’re the one who did it.” Dib grumbles back, bone tired and more amused than insulted as they step into Tak's ship. There's no one to be seen, as even GIR is absent from the main entry. 

“ _Yes.”_ Zim hisses proudly moving them down the cramped space to Dib’s quarters and the refresher. “And maybe Zim will do it again before Tak-” 

“Before I _what_ , exactly?” Tak steps out from the sleeping quarters, purple eyes narrowed and blocking their progress. 

“Uhh-” To say Dib's stomach drops into his intestines would be an understatement. 

“Tak!" Zim squeals, pointing. "You have abandoned you're mission!” 

“That is none of your business, Zim. You-” She points right back at Zim, whose own arm falters. “Need to clean my ship of any of your _fluids_. And **you** -” Dib flinches when the finger comes his way. “Go clean yourself. I don’t need my ship smelling like Irken spunk for the next few jumps.”

**Author's Note:**

> The jealousy factor took kind of a back seat, so there will be an attempt number two at some point. This wasn't the best but I put too much time into it to just not post it. Thank you for reading, and I hope this was okay. Let me know what you think, and we'll see you next time.
> 
> https://jacqcrisis.tumblr.com/ <\- my tumblr if you have any questions about this AU or if you just want to yell at me at someplace other than Ao3.


End file.
